Spring Cleaning
by Valiance
Summary: Rose stumbles across some old relics of the past. With it, she unearths forgotten memories.


It was a Wednesday. Rosemary had the day off work, John was at school, and of course, Roy was preoccupied with his own job. Current affairs demanded all his attention; she couldn't blame him for working overtime. He was worried. Everyone was. Instead of biting her lip watching the news, however, she decided something more practical would be a good distraction. More specifically, spring cleaning. It had been Easter last Sunday, and Rose had gained the annual routine of cleaning after every Easter. It wasn't out of any practice – she wasn't particularly religious – it was simply a convenient time.

Roy, while wealthy enough to hire maids to keep his expansive mansion tidy, absolutely forbade cleaning the bedrooms. They assumed it was because he was a private man. The truth was that word couldn't get out he and his wife slept in separate beds. Rose had a character to play, yes, but she would not play it so accurately she would share a bed with a man she didn't love.

That meant today she had enough to keep her busy: she stripped the beds, cleaned the sheets, hoovered the floor, threw away old magazines or tidied books she'd strewn haphazardly on her bedside table (a combination of psychology books and novels) left there since she finished them. When she was in the midst of dusting everything down, she paused at the antique cabinet in the corner. She often forgot about that cabinet, shelves stacked with files and textbooks, and today was no exception. It wasn't difficult, since it was huddled between the wall and the wardrobe of her side of the room, like it didn't want to be seen.

On the middle shelf, there were two bears, side-by-side. She'd almost forgotten about these, too, so used to her room that she glazed over the details. She smiled at them and set down her duster to pick one up.

This one was grey, but with yellowish eyes. Rose remembered how she'd gotten this.

It was from before he left. _Jack_.

There had been a temporary fairground set up near their apartment. Jack wasn't interested, but Rose insisted it would be fun and coaxed him into it. So they turned up, Jack trailing after her like a confused dog, blinking at the bright bursts of light everywhere they turned. He absolutely refused to let her go on any rides, because she was carrying John.

Instead, Rose wasted all her money on candy (Jack somehow got cotton candy stuck in his hair, which she saw the funnier side of much more than he did. She suggested he cut it if he couldn't take care of it), then games at the stalls. Every game Rose tried, she was terrible at. She tried the coconut shy and failed miserably, she tried throwing a basketball into the net and they had to duck as it rebounded off the rim, and she couldn't even hook a duck with the pole. After a few tries she managed to snatch one up and celebrated the mighty victory, but then the man running the stall patiently explained it wasn't a winning duck with a number painted on the bottom.

"Why do you _like_ these places?" Jack asked her as they walked away empty-handed. "You're just loosing all your money on rigged games."

Rose lead them aside to a small building. The flashing entrance sign proclaimed it _The House of Mirrors_. "You're not enjoying yourself?"

As they headed into the dimly lit rooms, Jack paused, looking at one of his reflections, weirdly distorting his body and shrinking his head. Then he leaned forward and it changed so his head was enlarged instead. She giggled as he pulled a face at his reflection. Then he said, "I've never been to a funfair before."

"Really?"

"Really." He straightened up. "It's not that weird."

"Well..." They went along to the next hallway of odd mirrors. Rose watched two children giggle hysterically at their reflections. "As a kid I used to go a lot. I stopped when I was a teenager."

She could see Jack's surprise despite the darkness. "Why? I thought you said these things were fun. Or are you just that bad at the games you quit?"

"Hey!" Rose poked him in the chest, and he just smirked. "If you must know, I stopped because..."

She trailed off, looking at their reflections again, skewered and blurred by the ridges in the mirror. She took his hand. "I wanted to save it for someone special."

"Oh."

Jack's smugness had gone. He was probably blushing.

Rose continued like she hadn't noticed a thing. "Like on TV, or on movies, you know? When you see the guy and the girl go on a date to the funfair. Then they end the night with a ride on the big wheel."

"Teen movies, maybe," Jack snorted.

"Not _all_ of them."

"I did see this one movie about a fair. A couple went on a roller coaster together," Jack said. He paused to think, then added, "It crashed and the guy died."

She blinked. Then huffed and let go of his hand. "Not _that_ kind of movie. It's supposed to be _romantic_."

"I know, I know. I'm kidding!" She wasn't listening, already walking away, so he had to catch up. "Come on, it was a joke. You're not mad, are you?"

"No. But I was being serious," Rose crossed her arms, turning another corner and avoiding his gaze. "I thought you'd understand, but you made fun of me instead."

Jack seemed to deflate. "You _are _mad at me." They emerged back out from the House. The sky was darker, now. Families were beginning to drift out towards the car park, Rose noticed, which meant it was approaching closing time.

Jack glanced around at anywhere but her, saying, "Um, look... How about I... try and win you something?" Then he finally pulled his gaze to Rose. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'll make it up to you."

Rose patted the pockets of her loose-fitting slacks. "I don't have any money left."

"I'll pay. For as many tries as it takes." It looked like it almost pained Jack to say it, especially with him complaining about then being rigged before. Before he could change his mind, Rose seized his forearm to drag him back to the stalls. Jack looked down at her devious smirk and said, "You wanted me to say that all along, didn't you?"

Suddenly Rose was the picture of innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let's go!"

They hunted around for about ten minutes, because Jack didn't want to try any of the 'rigged games' Rose had failed at. She was going to suggest they give up--

A gunshot.

Jack stiffened and pulled Rose behind him. She watched as he looked around for the source, reaching to his hip for a gun that wasn't there.

"What are you--?" Rose began. She had to stop herself laughing when she realised.

Nearby there was a shooting game. A few people gathered nearby cast the pair of them odd or concerned glances, like Jack was some kind of over-possessive boyfriend.

He let out a breath of relief. "Sorry. Overreacted."

Rose ignored his embarrassment and went over to have a closer look. She thought it was the perfect game for him to try. He was no amateur with a rifle, rigged games or not. The objective was to shoot the cork into one of the two glass bottles, a feat that took precise aim. Even a hair's breadth off spelt failure. As they waited in the queue, the man at the stall bragged that no one had been able to do it all night, goading people into trying to prove him wrong. So far, they'd all failed.

Soon it was Jack's turn. Despite his reluctance, he picked up the rifle like he was handling a feral cat that might bite. Rose was about to regret forcing it on him, but then he regained his confidence. He levelled it, sighted down his target, aimed, pulled the trigger. It landed straight in the bottle neck. Before the awestruck stall man could gather his wits Jack loaded another cork and planted it in the second. People who had stopped to watch erupted into cheers and clapping.

Jack looked flustered at the attention, but as he replaced the rifle on the stand, he wore a rare look of pride.

He let Rose choose a prize. There was a lot of choice, his being the first win of the night, but she picked one of the stuffed bears. It was unusual, which was why she'd homed in on it: grey fur and striking gold eyes. Immediately she held it out for him to take.

Jack blinked. "You keep it. I won it for you."

"I tricked you into getting it," Rose insisted, pressing it onto him. "You deserve it more."

"Wasn't it you who was talking about romantic movies? The guy always wins the girl a bear, right?"

They continued like this for a few minutes, neither giving way, until the man at the stall got so tired of their bickering he gave them a second one to solve the problem. This one was pink with soft eyes and a smiling face. Rose promptly passed it to him. "Here. I'll keep Jack."

"What?"

"The bear's called Jack. Your bear's pink, so it's called Rose." She couldn't help but grin at his mortified expression.

"You expect me to carry a _pink stuffed animal_ around?"

"Pink suits you."

"_What_--?"

Over his protests, she took his bear-free hand and kissed him. He tasted of cotton candy. "Thank you," she said.

Now Jack looked completely lost as she drew away, but not unhappy. "Uh, you're welcome?"

Rose just smiled. "Let's head home."

"Wait." Jack shifted the pink bear awkwardly in his arms. "What about a ride on the big wheel?"

Again he was blushing, but his eyes were dancing.

She said, "I love it when you're romantic."

They went, arm in arm, and Rose had never felt such a warm swell of complete happiness. As they rounded to the top of the wheel, the Hudson came into view from behind the dark shapes of the buildings. The city lights shimmered on the water like a river of stars.

Something wet ran down Rose's face, blurring her eyes.

She stood from where she was kneeling on the bedroom floor, put the bear back on the shelf and turned away to wipe her eyes. It was only half-heartedly she chided herself for still crying. Rose thought she'd moved on, or at least that she was done with tears. But she had all the reason in the world to still feel that emptiness.

She'd tried to get rid of these bears – asked John if he wanted them. He said no, stuffed animals were for babies. He liked cars and action figures and toy swords. Now, looking back on a memory almost forgotten, she was glad he didn't want them. Rose took a breath to calm herself down and looked back at the shelf.

The grey bear had slipped off; she'd replaced it too close to the edge. Now it was face down on the floor. She picked it up, looking into its striking eyes, then put it back beside the other bear. "I'm sorry," she said.

Rose wondered why she was apologising to a toy.

No. She knew exactly why.


End file.
